


(On hold) Love is Never Monochromatic

by AliasedasNathan



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bullying, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, It just has a very similar concept, Multi, Religion, Religious Conflict, Self-Hatred, Tags May Change, Well it’s not a true Soulmate AU per se
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliasedasNathan/pseuds/AliasedasNathan
Summary: Travis was colorblind, but not in any normal sense.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was based on an AU idea from Tumblr user Apharthurkirklands (if that’s still their username...) in which a character can only see in black and white until they meet their soulmate - so, credit to them for the inspiration.  
> Additionally, this is also (technically) my first fic! I’m a bit new to AO3 too, so I don’t quite know what proper tags and/or warnings to put in. Feel free to tell me if I missed anything.

  The eye doctors couldn’t quite figure it out. The boy passed through the majority of the tests, but he would insist that none of the dots were green, yellow, or whatever the specialists claimed. No, according to him, they were something else.  
They were either black, white, or some shade of grey.  
Eventually, the consensus was made that Travis had a rare form of color blindness they haven’t seen a case of in years: Cone Monochromacy. He would had fine vision, but he would never be able to see any kind of hues other than ones depicted on pre-1960s videos.

  His mother was worried for the boy’s happiness. If he couldn’t see color, how could he truly connect with anything? There would always be a barrier between him and his peers due to something that he has no control over. Would he be able to admit this “disability” of his to others? Would they mock him for not having what everyone else around him had?  
Would the black and white world only he could see reflect his feelings of misery and emptiness?

  His father was more concerned about how this would affect his future. Color plays a large role in a lot of everyday tasks, would he not be able to do those efficiently? There would always be something that stops him for a moment and brings him further away from success. Would he have to constantly be looked after? What would happen if he got used to others doing work for him and decided to slack off?  
Would the perfect son he wanted stray from what he’s supposed to be?

——

It all began to change when Travis was going to Nockfell High School as a senior.

  He had previously never gone to the school, despite being a part of Nockfell the majority of his life. With his parents being divorced, the two had always argued over who should have custody of him, and for a while, Travis was living with his mother out in a different location. During his time there, he had been at a private school until his father eventually managed to get him for himself, and while it wasn’t a particularly spectacular school it was a bit hard at first to have to return to Nockfell once more.

  He began to notice that his father must have really changed (even more so than shortly before his parents divorced) during the years he was away, since - well, to put it bluntly...  
Living with him had become a nightmare.  
While it was nice to work in the Phelps Ministry again, Travis found himself feeling a little tense whenever a sermon was being given. He wondered - was it always like this? Were these speeches always so intense and filed with an underlying sense of aggression? Not to mention the large amount of pressure and responsibility that had been put on him...The smallest mistakes would cause irritation to his father, even if he tried to hide it when other people are around.  
Home life wasn’t too much better. He always felt as though he were walking on eggshells; it didn’t matter if his father was in the room or not. A haunting presence was within this building, like every action of his was being monitored, like eyes were staring at him from every angle.

  He thought that maybe he could escape from it all while in school, but his misery only infected his academics and made his grades plummet. He couldn’t focus on a test or properly study without asking himself, “what did I ever do”? What set things off in order for him to feel like this? To fear the parental figure that used to be comforting to him?

  During his language arts class, while the teacher was giving his lesson for the day, Travis began to recall a memory - long ago, before his family had split in two.  
He was around fourteen or so. His mother was busy cooking, and he himself was doing his homework before being momentarily pulled into a conversation.

_“Travis, I’d like to have a word with you,”_ His father had spoken.

_“Yeah? What is it, Dad?”_  
He gestured Travis to meet up in the hallway. A little confused, yet compliant, his younger self had gotten up from his chair and followed him.

_“...I noticed earlier on Sunday, you had been staring at one of the boys in the congregation,”_ he began.

It took him a moment, but he realized what was being subtly asked to him. Once he figured it out, he made a slight scoff, as if it were a joke.

_“C’mon, Dad...You really think I’m gay? I would never be!”_

His father was silent. If this were later times, Travis might have grown a bit uneasy.

_“...I was just...”_ The boy of the past had tried to properly construct what he wanted to say. _“...It might sound crazy, but...I could have sworn I saw a bit of color, when I looked at him.”_

_“That’s...Well, that’s ridiculous, son,”_ Replied the father of the past. _“When they diagnosed you, they were confident that you would never be able to see any hues.”_

_“No, really, Dad! It’s the truth! Everything else was all the same, but...His eyes...Something about his eyes looked like a color other than grey!”_  
At the time, he didn’t understand why he was able to see color on that particular person; he still doesn’t understand why. Nonetheless, it made him curious, and his curiosity is what made him continue to stare (or so he told himself).

_“...If that’s what you really saw,”_ His father said, _“Then perhaps we can make another appointment for the eye doctor next week. Maybe they overlooked something.”_

Travis, nodding in agreement, saw the conversation as done and started leaving the hallway...Though, midway he had stopped to turn around and spoke...

_“...You didn’t...Actually think I was...?”_

_“I was just a little concerned, is all. It’s easy to get swayed into the devil’s ways these days; you know how it is.”_  
He wondered now, if that was really what he thought.

Perhaps that conversation is what caused this...

_~~Travis, what do you think the solution is?~~ _

Did his father truly suspect him of that? Does he still _now_?

_~~...Travis?~~ _

On top of his wife leaving him, is that why he’s been so angry?

~~_Travis._ ~~

...Did he even believe what he told him about seeing color?

“Travis!” The teacher had suddenly called. Shit, was he too deep in thought again?

“Ah - E-Er, yes, Mr. Trullinger?” He looked up at him.

“The problem is up on the board, what’s the answer to it?” The teacher asked again. “Have you been paying attention?”  
A couple classmates chuckled a little at that. He tried to ignore it.

“...Well, I...” He was going to try and make an excuse, but decided that he’d likely just make an even larger fool of himself. He sighed in defeat. “...My apologies, Mr. Trullinger.”

“Don’t make a habit of it, now,” He said, looking at Travis for one last moment before shifting his gaze to the other students. “How about someone who’s been listening?”

Somewhere behind him, another student had raised a hand.

“Yes, Sal?”

“This person didn’t cite their sources correctly. They used the APA format when they should have used the MLA format.”

“Very good.”

Oh, of course.  
Of course it was _him_ , of all people. Sal Fisher.

  He never truly got a good look at the guy until he had to be in a class or two with him, and once he had, he hated all that he saw. Sal wore this stupid mask all the time like he was trying to make some kind of fashion statement, and he also put his hair up in these girly pigtails. He wore this nickname of his, “Sally Face”, like a badge of honor. He was just so...so...  
So unlike any man he had ever seen, unlike how any man _should_ be seen, for a matter of fact. It made him feel repulsed.  
It didn’t help that he never reacted strongly to any remarks students would try to make. He would be so calm and collected, even having comebacks at the ready.  
Because of this, Sal would always be like a wall that Travis could never break down or tip over, and even if he tried to ignore it, he would always resurface in his mind.

It was so infuriating. And yet...  
...And yet, why?  
Why could he see a bit of color whenever he looked at him?


	2. Denying What you Wish Wasn’t True

  The school’s cafeteria is just as noisy as ever, full of students chatting away while having their lunch and sitting by their friends.  
Travis might have enjoyed this break time as much as everyone else, too, if it were Bologna Day. He wasn’t sure what it was about those sandwiches, but there was just the right amount of tenderness and flavor in the meat that made even the worst days just a little bit better. However, that day of the week had already passed, and today was instead Pizza Friday.  
It wasn’t like he absolutely _despised_ pizza or anything, but he could never find himself being able to eat a full slice of one. It was a very similar feeling to how he felt about most fast food or takeout; Sure, it might taste alright, but it felt like there was some addictive properties hidden away, almost like how cigarettes would ensnare you into a never-ending addiction whether you tried to stop it from doing so or not.  
Since packed lunches from his mother aren’t exactly an option now, however, he’ll just have to have what’s provided in the salad bar today.

After getting his tray (as well as making sure to throw away the slice of pizza in a nearby trash can when the lunch lady Kim wasn’t looking), he went over to the usual spot, where his two friends also sat occasionally.

“You sure you aren’t vegan or something, Travs?” One of them asked in a joking manner.

“What, is it a Christian rule now to not eat any kind of meat excluding bologna?” Asked the other. Travis didn’t find their jokes all too funny and his only response was a slight eye-roll.

  To be fair, they weren’t exactly his friends - the only things in common they both had with Travis was that they either worked with or went to the Phelps Ministry regularly, as well as the fact that they were all around the same age and were often grouped together because of it. Other than that, they were quite different from him, the two being into sports and being much less interested in church (he’s never seen them attend ever since retuning to Nockfell). Travis always assumed that the only reason they still hang out with him sometimes is that perhaps their actual friends weren’t around and they wanted to be by someone familiar.  
That, and to try and see if they can get any reactions by obnoxiously messing around with him. But, fake friends may as well be better than no friends at all, right?

  Noticing that he wasn’t going to feed into their teasing for now, the two “friends” began a separate conversation about their next football practice together as Travis tuned out their voices and quietly ate his lunch. For a moment, things were a bit peaceful when he closed off the world around him. Nothing to stress over, no pressure put onto anything. Just him and the rare feeling of relaxation.  
That was, of course, until his peers had tried to get his attention again, asking a question that he didn’t quite expect...

“Say, Travs...Something going on between you and that Sal guy?”

He nearly choked on the bits of the carrots he was eating for a split second. After properly swallowing the chunks down, he responded with a “Wh-what?!”

“Oh, you know,” The other said, pointing to his countenance. “With the face? Seems like you hate him or something.”

...Oh. Is _that_ what they meant?

“...W-Well, of course! How could I not hate him?” He said, caught off guard but trying to remain calm. “The guy’s such a show-off and acts like he’s better than everyone else!”

  He wasn’t lying about how he felt. Whether it was intentional or not, Sal always had this way of going through and completing assignments quickly with ease, making others feel inferior in comparison. The teachers loved his accomplishments and compliance, of course, but students such as Travis himself who struggle with work and keeping up hate seeing this perfection that they’ll never be achieve themselves.  
Nobody likes a goody two shoes.

Even so, something about this topic didn’t feel right. Why would they bring this up? Do they know something that he thought they didn’t know?

“...Really now? Seems kind of weird to stare so much at something you hate,” The “friend” spoke with a sly grin upon his face.

...They definitely knew.  
Such an oversight on his part, he realized - one of them shared a class with both Travis and Sal; mathematics with Mrs. Packerton. They must have known for a while and just waited for the right day, the right opportunity to ask him and pester him about it. Bastards.

  How similar this all was to the memory he reflected over last week, too...But unlike all those years ago, he can’t just tell them the real reason for glancing at Sal. He knew better than that now, that nobody in this situation would ever believe that kind of reason. Not even if they knew about his colorblindness.  
So then...What was he _supposed_ to tell them? That he was actually queer?

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the bell for 5th period rang.

  Students from all over the cafeteria got up from their tables and made their way to the hallways and classrooms, Travis following suit. One of his pseudo-friends uttered a “See you later, Travs” to him before leaving with his other pseudo-friend. Whether the two would use this new information about him to just tease him more or to spread a rumor across the school, he didn’t have any way of knowing.  
What at fool he was, to be tricked into that so easily.

——

  Focusing became difficult for the rest of the day.

  Not to say he didn’t attempt to do work - during 5th period he tried his best to follow along with the lessons even if he couldn’t understand them fully, and while he was in 7th period he made his best efforts to do well on the test he didn’t study for. Ultimately, though, it wasn’t enough. The thoughts clouding in his mind became too much and overpowered everything else once he was on the local school bus. After sitting down in an empty seat, he began to lose his grasp on reality once more and fell back down into his own thoughts.  
He was having an internal breakdown.

  This colorblindness was going to be the death of him, he thought. He found himself asking yet again; why couldn’t he just be prevented from seeing a single bit of vibrancy like the eye condition was supposed to do? Why did color have to suddenly show up on some random person, and why did it have to be _Sal Fisher_? What did it all even mean, that he was _jealous_? Jealous enough to make everyone around him think he’s trying to commit such a sin as being together with another man? What would Sal ever have that he would be jealous of?  
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He hated him deeply...But, could enough hatred really cause color to appear?

...If not jealously, if not hatred...Then...  
...Then...

...

No.  
_No._  
No, it can’t mean _that_.

  His mind tried to combat his fear by providing reassurance - that’s wrong, that’s wrong, that’s not what the color means. You’re not sinful, you never will be, and you will go to Heaven just like every other good Christian. Your friends, your father...They’re just mistaken, like you were! You can prove them wrong. This color just coincidentally appeared on Sal by pure chance, and since it isn’t usually likely of you to see in color, it just distracted you and left you confused! You weren’t drawn to Sal, you were just drawn to the colors on him! You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay...  
...It wasn’t working. Travis didn’t believe a word that his mind said.

  Tears started to silently form despite his wishes to prevent them from doing so.  
He didn’t like crying. This wasn’t something worth crying over. Crying was for when you were no more than an infant and it was one of your few forms of available communication. Crying was for when the chemicals from chopping an onion were released and you had no control over it making your eyes sting. Crying was for when your father lets you pay the price in bruises for a less-than-ideal progress report and you couldn’t take it anymore. But this wasn’t anything, he tried to tell himself.

  The reassuring words became more destructive over time - this is something you can easily debunk, you know. Stop acting like a brat who wants everything their own way and get over yourself. In a few months, you’ll be eighteen, an adult. What kind of adult - no, what kind of _man_ is so weak that they’ll let their petty emotions get in the way of everything? This is utterly disappointing.  
I expected better in you.

  Holding tightly onto his necklace, Travis, after several minutes and some deep breathing, managed to mask his stress and regain the majority of his composure just enough in order to look presentable for when the bus would inevitably stop at his place.  
...This was nothing to be worked up over. He’ll toughen this out.

He’ll even create the illusion of being the tough kid nobody wants to mess with if it can cut all these supposed connections between him and that masquerading freak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! I hope it’s alright; I like how it looks overall but I apologize if it still sounds a bit prologue-like. Maybe it’s just my style of writing and how I structure things? I don’t know...
> 
> Something to note in case there was any confusion:
> 
> In this fic, Nockfell High School runs on an A/B block schedule, and there are only four long classes a day. A days go in a pattern of 1st-3rd-(lunch)-5th-7th, and B days do the same thing but with the remaining period numbers. Travis and Sal share both periods 1 and 4 together.


	3. Temporary Perspective

_The ministry was much darker than usual. Travis was standing in front of the congregation’s people, their faces expressionless and unreadable. It seemed as though the room was rotating and it made a part of him feel dizzy._  
_He was holding out one of the ministry’s promotional pamphlets that he often carries. Watching the crowd stare back, he could feel the tension and his own nervousness growing. He almost tried to make a run for it, but he couldn’t get himself to move. He tried to scream for help, but nothing would come out other than a certain phrase._

 _I..._  
_...I..._

_“I...I love this.”_

_It was all that managed to escape his lips. His vision blurred a little as the large group of people began to stand and draw nearer._

_“...I-I love this,” He repeated. “I love every bit of it. I love it one-hundred percent of the time.”_

_The people appeared to not be listening. Once they got close enough, they surrounded him, crowding around Travis with very little space in between them and the boy._

_“I love this...Completely and utterly love this...”_  
_Looking down for a moment showed that bruises began to cover parts of him, mainly the arms, legs and - although had no mirror to see it - likely his face. He looked back at the others, holding out the pamphlet even closer to them as if the papers were a shield that could protect him._  
_“I love it all!...You know that, right?”_

 _No response came from them. Travis wasn’t feeling pain, nor were the people beating him, but he began to feel some kind of weakness from his newfound injuries and could no longer support himself. His legs gave way and he fell._  
_They continued to stare him down as he looked up at them from the ground._

 _“...I...P-Please, I...”_  
_Everyone had the same face, same gaze - it was without a true expression, but he interpreted it as a look of disapproval, the kind where you got caught for whatever wrongdoing you committed and they’re waiting for you to stop beating around the bush and confess._  
_Admitting to such large mistakes wouldn’t make him feel better, and it would only make the others more angry. Besides, he...This wasn’t any kind of wrongdoing for once! He was telling the truth!_  
_...Wasn’t he?_

_“Please! I love this, I really do!” He once again said with a desperate tone. His eyes were watery. “Wh-why don’t you believe me? I love everything here...The ministry, m-my father, my school...Can’t you see that I love this?”_

_He couldn’t look at them anymore. He felt nauseous, looking down at the spinning floor. He coughed up something - presumably blood, but...Instead of the dark grey-like shade he was used to seeing, it had such a vibrant color. One he had seen before, on...on..._  
_...On him. The color of his hair. What was the name associated with that color?_

_At that moment, the repeating beeps of an alarm woke Travis up._

~~~~

“You’re really just gonna let him get away with what he’s been doing to you for the past few weeks?” Larry asked, him and Sal walking to their usual spot to wait for the bus.

“It’s not all that serious, really,” He replied, shrugging it off like he always does. “There are way worse people to deal with than him.”

  In hindsight, it was probably the best course of action to report him like his friends kept telling him to do, but at this point in his life he no longer cared what other kids thought of him. He’s heard all of it before; most, if not all of the insults directed towards him weren’t very creative and original. Every “bully” is more often than not another person trying to see if they can aggravate him and then laugh at his irritated feelings (which never seemed to work).

  Travis, however, was a bit different from the norm once he really thought about it...Unlike a lot of students who specifically targeted or made fun of Sal only, Travis seemed to have an aggressive attitude towards almost anyone. He’d often have these bruises and scars from fighting other students and even made some death threats to a couple of them - or, so he’s heard.  
What was weird about it all, though, was that he never tried to make a move on Sal himself; an “all bark and no bite” demeanor exclusively for him. He’d always clench his fists as though he were _about_ to hit him, but not once did he lift his arms. He was perfectly capable of it, especially with how larger he was in comparison to Sal, and he clearly wasn’t worried about getting in trouble...So...Why?

“Yeah, but what happens if it gets worse because you didn’t stop it ahead of time?”  
His thoughts about the guy were interrupted by Larry’s persistence. Sal responded with another shrug.

“Trying to prevent it could just motivate him further...” He said.

  They’ve had this kind of conversation multiple times. He knows Larry cares about him deeply and hates to see him get hurt, but at the same time he feels like it’s unnecessary to waste so much time worrying about someone else experiencing a normal part of high school. Was is really worth it to, in a way, “protect” him?  
He’s grateful for having people who are genuinely his friends for once, though. Perhaps he shouldn’t take that for granted.

“...Well, if you say so. I just feel like something bad might happen,” He sighed in somewhat defeat, but Sal had a feeling that he wouldn’t let this issue go that easily.

“Don’t worry about it,” He tried to reassure. “Hell, if I can handle living with murders, ghosts and cults almost every day, then I can handle anything.”

That earned a small chuckle from his friend. Looks like the attempt to lighten the mood worked.

“Guess that’s true. You’re scarily calm sometimes, dude.”

——

The door to Mr. Trullinger’s room suddenly opened about fifteen minutes or so after class had started. Everyone’s focus turned to the student who just walked in.

“Ah, there you are, Travis. Do you have a slip?”

“No,” He said in a somewhat annoyed tone. Sal noticed that he recently acquired a black eye - or, was that already there before?  
The student who was previously considered absent went over to his usual seat, muttering inaudibly to himself about something. He shot a glare at one of the classmates nearby him, shutting down whatever they were going to say to him (even if it wasn’t going to be a mean spirited remark).

  The teacher had introduced a new project that day. He thought it would be a fun idea to have everyone write long and thought-provoking poems relating to the book they had been reading as a class, which contained themes of depression and coping with the tragic loss of a loved one.  
Funny how that novel mirrored a part of his past, he thought.  
Regardless, Sal wasn’t sure how well he’d do on this. It wasn’t like he was bad at writing or anything - he had a fairly decent grade in the class - but the problem was about writing _creatively_. Even with all the interesting, strange and sometimes horrifying experiences he’s had in his life, he could never describe it in such a way that would reel in an audience or make the reader connect with the subject and the author.  
Ashley would probably be good at this kind of stuff, though. Perhaps they’ll meet up later to talk about it.

“Additionally, you’ll also be sharing your poems in a group, writing thorough critiques,” Mr. Trullinger said. Some of the class glanced at their friends and nodded at each other as a way to confirm their collaboration. This, however, was all thrown out the window once the teacher added, “I will be choosing your groups.”

One by one, he pointed to each student, and with each point he would say “one”, “two”, or “three” depending on what was next in the pattern. Once that finished, he told everyone to group up with students who have your number.

As it turned out...Travis and Sal both had the same number, that being two.

  Sal’s fellow classmate appeared to be somewhat surprised and furious about this. In contrast, Sal himself didn’t have too much of an issue. Sure, Travis didn’t enjoy being around him, and it would make cooperating with him hard to do, but it’s not like Trullinger would change the groups.  
Besides...They don’t really know each other much, do they?  
Neither of them know about the other’s experiences. Sal can’t form an opinion on him purely based on how he is in school.

What are the chances that he’s just putting on an illusion?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took a while! I wanted to write a bit longer of a chapter this time (or maybe it’s just as long as the previous ones? A chapter tends to feel longer to me than it actually is sometimes, and I fear of making something too long), and you know how real life is with getting in the way.  
> I don’t know if any future chapters will have Sal’s P.O.V. or not. Only time will tell, I suppose.


	4. Blue

The false persona of his was breaking, and the ability to keep himself looking calm was slipping away. Not even the bologna he had a while ago could bring light to the situation.

  He didn’t think that he’d feel so emotional over what happened yesterday; he thought throwing a punch or two would make him feel better afterwards or drive away these unwanted feelings and thoughts, but the issue only worsened.  
He...He finally made a move on Sal.  
And that stuck with him.  
Travis knew from overhearing the enemy and his friends that he wasn’t going to be reported for what he did, but he wasn’t worried or upset about consequences right now. He didn’t really know what he was upset about until he realized that, when he confronted Sal and hit him...In that moment, the colors on him were so bright, saturated and - dare he say it - _beautiful_. Beautiful hues he wish he knew how to properly describe without looking like a fool. That must have been why he felt like something hurt deep within him, why his eyes were starting to tear up again as he fled the scene that day. What a pathetic reason.

  In his state of distress, he tried writing a letter to Sal which was ultimately discarded in the bathroom’s trashcan (or rather, adjacent to it, but Travis hadn’t noticed). These feelings are so stupid, he thought to himself as he hid away in one of the stalls. Isn’t it good that you’re fighting against what’s unnatural and unnecessary? Sal shouldn’t be loved by you, nor anyone because of what he is and what he does. Be happy that you’re doing this. Be happy that you’re going out of your way to punish the sinful. Be happy that your father can feel proud of you for once. Be...

“Travis? Were you just... _Crying_ a second ago?”

...Shit.  
He never even heard the door to the boy’s bathroom open. How long was he here? Quickly, he tried to pick up what fell from his shattering mask.

“N-no, you queer! Why the hell would you think that? Buzz off and give a guy some privacy, Sally Face.”  
It wasn’t as well-rehearsed as he wanted it to be, but he hoped that it would be enough for Sal to leave him alone. He wasn’t fully ready in this state and his illusion wasn’t properly repaired yet.

“...My friends and I aren’t actually gay, you know,” his peer said, refusing to let the conversation end so easily. “As far as I know, nobody aside from Todd is gay in our group. Even then, I don’t necessarily think it’s wrong...It’s a part of who he is, and he’s not afraid to accept himself.”

“Ugh! Who cares what you or your friend thinks about it?” Travis retorted. “None of it matters if it’s not approved in the eyes of God!”

There was a moment of silence before Sal spoke again. Travis couldn’t see him, but it almost sounded as if he was shifting around nervously.

“There...Isn’t someone pushing their beliefs onto you...Is there?” He asked. His tone was that of...Concern? “Maybe I’m just crazy, but...I don’t know, you just seem so unhappy.”  
There’s no way he truly cares, especially after what he did to him yesterday. He’ll likely use this rare moment of vulnerability against him just like others have.

“Y-you’re dead wrong! I’m anything but unhappy! My dad may be a preacher, but he...”

And yet, a part of him wants Sal to care, _hopes_ that he cares.  
It’s been a long time since he felt like someone cared about him.

“...H-he...”

...He couldn’t take it any longer. His quiet sobbing had returned - heightened slightly with the echoing walls of the bathroom - this time, with someone to hear it. Travis clutched onto the necklace of his, finally letting out the parts of him that he so desperately tried to conceal. Sal waited patiently for him to calm down a little.

“...I think, under all that bitterness and anger you try to show everyone, there’s a guy who’s afraid to be himself,” He said. “You don’t need to stray from who you really are or want to be just for someone else’s benefit. You’re only going to hurt yourself even more that way.”

  He wasn’t used to such kindness. After all this time of being a jerk to Sal, his fellow classmate was still nice and supportive despite all that had happened. Could a person really be so nice to him like that?  
Once he had the ability to speak again without having sobs in between, he stepped out of the stall.

“Y-You know, I...I never really hated you or your friends to begin with, Sal.”

“I didn’t think so,” Sal replied. “But, if you’re in need of a friend or just someone to talk to when things are tough...You’re more than welcome to hang out with me. I mean it.”

  Over the course of this, he realized that Sal was right; If he were to continue lashing out at others instead of trying to resolve the conflict with himself, then...He’d be no better than his father, would he? With that in mind, and with the opportunity to destroy this facade and finally feel a sense of joy...  
He’d gladly join in with the person he no longer tried to see as an enemy.

“...Well, if that’s the case,” Travis said, albeit a bit nervously. “Would you...Like for us to start over? As friends?”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but the colors on Sal became a little more prominent once again. He didn’t feel regretful when he thought of the sight as beautiful.

“Sure. The name’s Sal Fisher - It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

In a rare moment, he smiled.

“Travis Phelps...A pleasure to meet as well.”

They eventually left the room to go about their own separate ways for a while. As Travis was walking back to the cafeteria to grab his things, he managed to catch a glimpse of the sky from a nearby window.  
It was in color...A very familiar color at that.

——

  He wasn’t used to his bus schedule suddenly changing last week. Nobody told him about it and so he was late to school for a day or two, giving him a nice discussion with the principal over repeated tardies. In the end, though, he didn’t have that much of an issue.  
After all...Sal just so happened to be on this new bus. And, after today’s events, he’d love to talk with him in their newfound friendship instead of just giving occasional insults from nearby.  
Of course, this also meant that some of Sal’s other friends, particularly Larry, were also there and were likely not as forgiving for what he did. That was fine to him, as he felt that was deserved, but it would make this whole friendship idea have a rocky start. When Sal offered Travis to sit by him, his friend’s expression was akin to bewilderment.

“Dude, are you crazy? Didn’t he just hit you the other day?” Larry exclaimed.  
Sal’s response was in a hushed tone and was thus inaudible to most, but it was probably something like _‘Don’t worry, he’s apologized’_ , _‘He wants to change himself for the better’_ or maybe just _‘I’ll explain it later’_. Larry seemed unconvinced of whatever his friend tried to reason with, but nonetheless he reluctantly moved one seat over (though not before tossing a suspicious glance over at Travis). Travis himself sat down in the newly vacated spot by the window.

Once all the other students assigned to the bus arrived and seated themselves, the vehicle was set in motion and the view outside became nothing more than a blur of line-like shapes. Travis turned his head slightly towards the person beside him.

“...So, uh...” He attempted to casually start. “Have you got any clue what to do for Trullinger?”

“Not really, if I’m completely honest,” Sal responded. “I have even less of an idea on how I’m going to critique everyone’s work. I don’t think I’ll do too well on this one.”  
That was certainly odd to hear. Sal Fisher, not doing well on something? Perhaps the idea that he liked to flaunt his straight-A status was nothing more than a mere misunderstanding.  
Even so...He’s sure that he’ll do alright.

“...If it’ll help you practice critiquing, I can give you the current draft of my own poem and you can tell me what works and doesn’t work,” Travis suggested. “It’s probably a disaster, so you don’t need to worry about being harsh or anything.”

“Why not; I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”

Travis took out the (somewhat) neatly organized binder of his from his backpack and looked through the section labeled “literature”. Eventually finding the written poem, he handed the paper over to Sal. It read thusly...

_**“Blue”, by Travis Phelps** _

_Blue_  
_The ocean of sorrows that’s hard to swim through_  
 _The waves that I’m unable to prevent from crashing in_  
 _It overflows and leaves me in an overwhelming flood._

 _Blue_  
_I still remember the scene clearly_  
 _The hospital room, the curtains, the heart monitor_  
 _You were dressed in a gown, but the occasion wasn’t a party._  
 _Whoever celebrated those who don’t survive?_

 _Grieving is never wrong,_  
_But unless it’s in small doses_  
 _The grief will obtain greed, and then it’ll swallow you whole._

 _So that’s why blue_  
_Is also the sky that I look up to,_  
 _Breaching from the water_  
 _Staying afloat with persistence_  
 _Never forgetting you, but never letting you drag me down._

“...I...Wow,” Is all that he really managed to say after reading what was on the paper. “This is really good so far, Travis...How do you write things like this?”

  Looking back on it, he didn’t initially write the poem because he suddenly had the motivation to complete an assignment during 7th period...Rather, his mind was stuck on the area around him. Colors that were previously exclusive to Sal were showing up in other places, and because of that he was finally able to understand the names of them based on what he saw (and heard of) them being associated with. And so, he wrote out his thoughts and feelings, eventually modifying the poem to match the novel’s message once he realized how he could integrate what he knew about the color with symbolism.  
But he didn’t see that as all too special. If anything, this poem is probably half-assed compared to someone who knows what they’re doing - yet he can’t help but feel a little bit of joy when Sal expressed his amazement to the poem.

Travis simply shrugged as an answer to his question. He could feel his face become a little warmer and hoped that the reddish tint wasn’t easily noticeable.

Before they knew it, the bus was nearing their stop. Sal gave the poem back to Travis as he put his binder away, and the two of them agreed to try and hang out some more during lunch tomorrow - even if Larry and the others aren’t too keen about him sitting at their table.  
Things were finally starting to look up, it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for taking a while to get this one out! I hope it’s an alright chapter.


End file.
